To Sail the Eastern Sea
by GeoffreyF
Summary: The story of the seven noble lords, sent by Miraz to investigate the eastern sea.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Narnia.**

**

* * *

**

Prologue

_Narnia had always been a seafaring kingdom. Its conquest of the Lone Islands, long before the dominion of the White Witch, had established it as a great power of the sea. From the sands of Calormen to the frosts of the Northern Wastes, Narnian dominance at sea was legendary and undisputed._

_The Golden Age came and went, and still Narnia was the undoubted master of the ocean. But in the waning years of Old Narnia, that legendary prowess began to fade. The ships dwindled, until only a cursory fleet remained, and Narnia's rulers became weak. Elsewhere, watchful eyes noted the kingdom's decline, and their owners were glad._

_The invasion by Caspian of Telmar was the first time Narnia had ever been defeated at sea. The Narnians were devastated by the power and sophistication of the Telmarine fleet, and the sheer number of men at Caspian's command. The King of Telmar conquered Narnia easily, and there made his abode, free from the instability and treachery rife within his own kingdom._

_But the Telmarines failed to learn the lessons of history, and within a few generations of the Conqueror's death they too were cowering inland, the coasts abandoned and feared. The great castle of Cair Paravel, already crumbling, was finally abandoned, and the Telmarines constructed a new fortress, far from the uncertainty of the vast ocean._

_By the time of King Caspian IX, none in Narnia had anything to do with the sea. Caspian was a firm king, and the country prospered under his rule, but he too was afflicted with fear of the sea. Yet he was a great man, and in him the blood of his ancestor Caspian I ran true, and beneath his fear he felt a longing for the sea._

_And so he gathered about him seven great lords, and told them of his desire: that Narnia's rule of the waves would return, leading to the re-establishment of the kingdom as a power rivalling the Calormene empire to the south. The seven lords, at the king's direction, journeyed to the coasts, and there from a crumbling dock they set sail in a small boat they had constructed themselves. Without great incident they arrived at Galma, where by necessity seafaring activity continued, and there procured a sturdier vessel and supplies fit for a voyage. And they explored the seas close to Narnia, re-initiating contact with Terebinthia and the Seven Isles, and extending the dominion of their king._

_But when they returned, flushed with victory and great tidings, they found Caspian dead. His brother Miraz had been appointed Lord Protector, for the young prince was but a child, and unprepared to wear the crown. At first, Miraz continued his brother's policies, under the watchful eye of the Queen, but after her death he became proud, and elevated those of his followers he considered worthy of his trust. And the seven lords were uneasy, and they began to murmur against the Lord Protector._

_Argoz was from the sunny fields of the South, where the sun danced on the flowers and cloudy days were rarer than a centaur sighting. He was a proud man, fast in friendship but also quick to anger. He was accounted by many the chief of the seven lords._

_Bern came from the bustling town of Beaversdam, close to the stronghold of the Telmarine kings. He was a quiet man, deep in counsel and considered by many wise. He was not a man of action, preferring contemplation and peace._

_Revilian and Restimar were brothers, and they came from the wilds of Lantern Waste. This was a sparsely populated region during the days of the Telmarines, who maintained only very few outposts to guard against possible invasion from the western wild. Revilian was a jovial man, and once had great vigour, but he had grown rounder in his latter days, and was fond of good food and wine. Restimar had more frugal tastes, but he loved the company of women, and the other lords disapproved of his debauchery._

_Rhoop came from the northern frontiers, where the snow frosted the mountaintops throughout the year. He was a great man of arms, and a true friend. Like Argoz, he was a proud man, but his pride was more ostentatious and had less of Argoz's easy charm. For this reason his company was not sought save by those he considered friends, and around whom he might drop his façade._

_Mavramorn came from the green fields near Beruna, the son of the chief warden of that region. He came to the Telmarine fortress as a young man, and became great in friendship with Octesian, who had been raised in that stronghold. Mavramorn was quiet of character and considered introverted by many, revealing his true nature only to those in whom he had placed his trust. Octesian was more open, and more easy in company, but they both shared a love of beauty and majesty, and a secret desire to possess it for themselves._

_The seven lords were not convinced by the Lord Protector's explanations concerning the death of their king, and they spoke more and more openly against him. Others too became wary of the Protector, and listened to the lords' words. But Miraz was aware of them, and he resolved to prove his strength and destroy any resistance to his reign. Belisar and Uvilas came to an unhappy end; stray arrows on a hunting party, it was said. The Passarids, a proud and ancient house who hearkened to the words of the lords, were dispatched to the northern border in a hopeless assault on the giants._

_In victory, Miraz became more ruthless. Arlian and Erimon and many others he implicated in a plot of treason against the young Prince Caspian, and had them all executed; the two brothers of Beaversdam were declared insane after they questioned the Protector's right to rule. But Miraz was cautious of approaching the seven lords themselves, for they were great in power and much loved by the people._

_For long Miraz considered possible methods to discredit or remove the seven, for they were the last obstacle in his ultimate plan. For many months the answer eluded him, until, at last, the flash of inspiration came. In after days, when he brooded for long hours alone in the highest tower of his fortress, he could never account for the idea – it had been so sudden. All he knew was that it had come in the treasury, as he ran his fingers over an opulent statue of solid gold. A statue of a lion._

_

* * *

_Author's Note: This is my second story, and rather different from the first, so I would really appreciate feedback on how well I have pulled this off. Reviews would therefore be immeasurably helpful!


	2. Miraz Triumphant

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Narnia; C. S. Lewis does.**

**

* * *

**

Chapter One - Miraz Triumphant

Light trickled down into the gloom of the Narnian council chamber, a very tall, forbidding hall sculpted from dark marble. Ten high-backed chairs were spaced in a wide circle around the room, with an eleventh - a luxurious, empty throne - mounted on a dais in front of a window. In each of the other chairs sat a man, and each was clearly a great lord, such was the dignity of their bearing and the opulence of their dress.

"My Lord Protector," one of the men was saying, "I wish to raise with you the matter of the Lords of Beaversdam. I am grievously distressed concerning their treatment. For what purpose have you sent them to the dungeon, where criminals only rightly reside?"

"A necessary precaution to protect us all, my Lord Argoz," Miraz, the Lord Protector, replied smoothly. "The brothers had been instable for some time. It was becoming clear that someone would soon be hurt."

"I noticed no instability," observed Lord Bern.

"You were not following the signs," said Miraz. "I have seen them accumulate. The Passarids and their mad giant-slaying lark, Arlian and Erimon's thoughtless treason - they are all symptoms."

"Symptoms, my Lord Miraz?" queried Lord Mavramorn.

"Symptoms of our crowded state. Narnia is a small kingdom, and our numbers grow every day. Jealousy stirs within our borders. Even some of you -" he cast his eyes around the room "-are beginning to harbour desires for your neighbours' land. We have outgrown Narnia, my lords. We need new lands to conquer."

"My lord," suggested Lord Bern, "perhaps it is time to crown Prince Caspian. A symbol of national unity, to foster common pride in the resilience of the Telmarine monarchy, could be the solution to this problem."

"But Caspian is only a boy," protested Lord Glozelle. "He cannot properly govern for many years yet. And the Lord Miraz has served us well as Protector."

Miraz inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"No, my lords," he said. "We must search further afield for the solution. Did I not promise my late, much lamented brother Caspian IX to take care of his son? How would I be doing that, placing him in such danger and with such responsibility before he can possibly deal with it? No. We need to expand the realm of Narnia. What of the Lone Islands? They are unsupervised; they have not been visited for many years. And beyond them - who knows? There could be wide lands to the east for us to occupy!"

"I will go!" said Lord Argoz impuslively. The sea called to him, but something else - an unexplained feeling - indicated to him that this was the right thing to do.

"And I," said Rhoop.

One by one, the lords pledged themselves to the quest - Revilian, Octesian, Bern, Mavramorn and Restimar. Each felt the sea-longing, and each the unexplained urge and righteousness.

"My Lord Protector, I am sure, will need some help while these noble lords are absent," Glozelle was quick to note. "I think that it will serve Narnia best if Sopespian and I remain behind - much as our hearts yearn for adventure - to help Lord Miraz keep some semblance of peace in Narnia."

"Excellent!" said Miraz, rising, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. "I knew that such great lords of Narnia would not forsake their duty to their ruler!" Some of the lords shifted uncomfortably at this. "You will set forth in a week!"

"But, my Lord Protector," interrupted Bern, "there are no ships in Narnia. How can we reach these distant shores without a vessel?"

"The province of Galma retains sea-faring folk," noted Sopespian. "Perhaps a galley could be bought from there?"

"I will arrange it," said Miraz. "I will leave you, my lords, to your preparations."

He swept from the chamber, his long robe billowing behind him, Glozelle and Sopespian close behind.

* * *

_A/N: As usual, please review. I do not know the potential of this idea, and as the completion of this particular story will, I think, take some time, I will only continue if it is seen to have some promise. Feedback is therefore much appreciated._


	3. The Lone Islands

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Narnia; C. S. Lewis does. I especially do not own certain parts of Gumpas's speech that are the same or similar to VDT.  
**

**

* * *

**

Chapter Two - The Lone Islands

An obliging wind had sprung up, and the lords' ship was heading southeast. The people of Galma had been none too pleased when seven Narnian lords had appeared demanding ships and a crew, and had done so only when firmly reminded that they were still under the overlordship of the Narnian crown. They had grudgingly provided a small, rather ramshackle ship and a crew composed largely of people they hoped to be rid of. The first mate was a very old man with a patch over one eye and a wooden leg; he looked rather like the pirate caricatures found in children's storybooks. His name was Proteus, and his words were few.

"I cannot help but think," Bern observed to his companions, who were gathered on the forecastle, "that we are doing exactly what Miraz hoped we would do."

"I expect so," said Rhoop, "but my heart tells me that our decision was correct. Did you not feel it?"

"I felt it," said Argoz, frowning.

"I, too," said Bern. The other lords made sounds of agreement.

"But I cannot think," Bern continued, "that there can be any lands far to the east, whatever Miraz may say. We ourselves have explored Terebinthia and the Seven Isles. We are now headed in the direction we suppose leads to the Lone Islands, which have not been visited for many years – they may be just an Old Narnian legend, like the lion Aslan, nothing more than uneducated superstition. But beyond? There can be little beyond, surely. Do not our own tales tell of the perilous country at the world's end?"

"Nevertheless," said Argoz, "I am resolved to complete our task, which was assigned to us in the name of the true King, Caspian the Tenth. That is one thing of which we can be glad, my friend – we must no longer guard our tongues against uttering truths!"

"Indeed!" exclaimed Revilian, shifting his considerable bulk. "There is nothing here to stop us cursing the name of Miraz, tyrant and usurper! Why, I should not be surprised if, when we return, the coward has crowned himself king!"

"I wonder," said Rhoop, "whether it was safe leaving Miraz with only Glozelle and Sopespian as his support. We may have put King Caspian in danger. I would put nothing past Miraz."

"Trust your instinct!" scolded Revilian. "Instinct is unerring and constant as the course of the Sun." He grinned. "And now, my instinct is telling me that the time for a meal approaches. Come! I am glad we brought provisions of our own, for they gave us little at Galma!"

He lifted himself from the weather-beaten stool on which he had been sitting, but before he could move further there was a cry from the crow's nest.

"Land!" breathed Argoz, turning. "The Lone Islands are before us! They were not a myth!"

"Caution, Argoz," said Bern, coming to stand beside his friend at the tip of the forecastle. "We do not know the state of affairs in these islands. Remember that the sands of Calormen stretch to the west, and it is possible that they have long since taken the islands for their own."

"No," said Octesian, "see! They fly the standard of Narnia. How wondrous! They cannot have had word from Narnia for hundreds of years, and yet they still acknowledge our overlordship!"

"Wondrous indeed," murmured Bern. He turned to the mate, who had come silently behind them. "Proteus. We will land on Felimath first and explore that island before rounding that island and coming to Doorn. All of the old records suggest that it is the chief of the islands."

"My lord," said Proteus in his quiet, surprisingly melodious voice, and turned to move back towards the centre of the ship. Bern wondered how he could move so quietly, with his wooden leg.

"The Lone Islands!" murmured Argoz, his eyes alight with adventure, "gateway to the east!"

* * *

To their disappointment, the lords found little but sheep on the green slopes of Felimath, and their wanderings there were uneventful. They spent only an afternoon on the island, before returning to their ship and sailing around the southern tip towards Doorn. The sun was setting as they arrived at the jetty of Narrowhaven, chief town of the Lone Islands.

Narrowhaven was a modest but prosperous settlement, and it - like the Lone Islands themselves - had been little affected by the cessation of contact with Narnia. The Narnian standard still flew above the Governor's residence, and he still acknowledged the King of Narnia as his lord, but beyond this the distant kingdom was little in the thoughts of the islanders. They supported themselves by farming sheep on Felimath, growing crops on Avra, and maintaining a flourishing trade in slaves with Calormen.

"For shame!" murmured Bern, as they passed a market square, where a slave trader stood on a raised platform under the light of several oddly-fashioned lanterns. A dozen miserable-looking souls were crowded behind him. "How is this permitted? Not even Miraz would dare commit this kind of atrocity!"

"A matter, perhaps, to raise with the Governor," said Rhoop.

The Governor of the Lone Islands resided in a castle, the only castle in the Lone Islands. It had been built long, long ago, when first the Lone Islands came under the dominion of Narnia. The gate was old but impressive, but the door-keeper who came to meet them through the postern was certainly not.

"What do you want?" he demanded, swaying slightly on the spot. It was clear that he had been drinking.

"We would be brought to the Governor at once," said Argoz in ringing tones. "We are emissaries from the King of Narnia, come to enquire about the state of the Lone Islands, over which His Majesty is Emperor. Take us to him at once!"

The door-keeper staggered again. "His Sufficiency is occupied," he said. Then, glancing at their swords, "Would you like to make an appointment?"

Argoz's eyes flashed. "Tell me, who is the present Governor?" he demanded.

"His name is G-Gumpas, sir," stammered the door-keeper. "He is newly appointed after the death of the previous holder of the office. He is free on Wednesday afternoon," he finished hopefully.

"In the name of the King, you will take us to him now!" said Argoz, his hand on his sword-hilt.

The door-keeper gulped, and sank his head in a reluctant bow. "Perhaps His Sufficiency can be diverted from his present occupation," he mumbled.

"Perhaps he can," said Octesian, with a grim smile at his companions.

The door-keeper led them into the courtyard and through a pair of strong oak doors. The entrance chamber was very large, with a polished marble floor and high windows. The door-keeper led them through another door on their left and into a long hall, with a table at the far end. A red-haired man sat behind it, with an enormous pile of papers on his left and a scarcely smaller one on his right. He glanced up with an annoyed frown.

"No interviews without appointments except between nine and ten p.m. on second Saturdays," he said, and looked back down at his notes. The door-keeper gestured half-heartedly towards the door, and when they did not follow he hurried out himself.

"My lord," said Argoz, striding up to the table, "we are emissaries from the King of Narnia, your liege, and we demand an audience."

The Governor looked up again. "I have heard nothing about it," he said irritably. "We have not been notified of any such thing. I am happy to consider applications, of course. You might come to the Council ..."

"My lord!" said Argoz again. "We will not be denied! We are come to enquire into the condition of the Lone Islands."

Gumpas stood up. He eyed all seven of the lords, and seemed to come to a decision. "The condition of the Lone Islands is good. Please convey my regards to the King." He sat down again, and took up his quill.

"Your Sufficiency," said Bern, coming forward. "Perhaps you can suggest a lodging place for us, until such time as we have conducted our business."

Gumpas waved an impatient hand. "Speak to one of my men. You'll find most of them down at the marketplace for the auction. Thank you, goodbye!" He made a great show of lifting another sheaf of papers from the pile on his left and leafing through them.

Most of the lords turned to go, exhausted and thinking that perhaps the Governor would be more receptive between nine and ten p.m. on second Saturdays, but Bern remained behind.

"Your Sufficiency, I must protest about the abominable trade in slaves that you maintain," he said feelingly. "It is monstrous! How can you allow it?"

"Necessary. An essential part of the health of the economy of these islands," said Gumpas, still staring at his papers. "Regrettable, perhaps, but unavoidable."

"Far from unavoidable, surely," said Bern. "What need have you of slaves?"

"Export, my Lord. Mostly we trade with the Tisroc of Calormen (may he live forever). We are a great trade centre."

Bern's face darkened at these words. "You show more deference to a foreign tyrant than your own king!" he said loudly, pounding the table so that drops of ink rained on the paper Gumpas was reading. "For shame, Gumpas!"

His Sufficiency paled, but his voice was admirably controlled. "Merely a courtesy, my lord," he said, looking up at last. "Merely a courtesy."

"A courtesy of which I doubt your liege lord would approve!" said Bern loudly.

"Then I accede to the wishes of the King of Narnia," said Gumpas, with an air of victory. "Now please. I am occupied."

Mavramorn seized Bern's arm. "Come, Bern. We can return at a more convenient time for his Sufficiency, perhaps."

"Thank you," grumbled Gumpas. "Between nine and ten p.m. on second Saturdays."

Reluctantly, Bern allowed himself to be led from the hall. They were led by the smirking door-keeper out through the front gate, which closed behind them with a firm clang.

* * *

_A/N: Many thanks to my one and only reviewer, LazyChestnut, for the encouragement needed to write this chapter. As some of you may have noticed, much of Gumpas's speech is taken from VDT. This is because I think that he would not have changed at all in the years between this story and Caspian's visit, and he probably used the same words as well. I have tried to alter it slightly. Please review!_


	4. Recalcitrance and Romance

_**Author's Note:**_ First of all, grovelling apologies for taking such a ridiculously long time to update. Some of the logistics of this piece have needed some sorting out, and I had to slow things down a bit to get some characterisation in. Never fear, though - hopefully my updates will henceforth be considerably less sporadic. (I have a feeling that it gets easier when you haven't got seven principal characters to deal with.)

As always, reviews are hugely appreciated.

* * *

Chapter Three - Recalcitrance and Romance

The lords were several weeks at the Lone Islands. The Governor cancelled his regular appointment time twice (ill health, if the reports were to be believed), and frustration began to set in amongst the company. The inn where they stayed was tolerably comfortable, but it was hardly the adventure that all seven had been searching for when they acceded to Miraz's suggestion.

"We'll just have to barge in again," said Argoz one day. "We can't wait here for ever, and the Governor – regrettably – can."

"Indeed," said Octesian over his tankard. "This provincial fiend is beginning to irritate me exceedingly."

"Nicely put," murmured Mavramorn. Octesian smiled.

"I wonder," said Argoz, "if the others can be diverted from their – current occupations."

The three of them were sitting with Rhoop at one of the wooden tables set around the pleasant, low-ceilinged common-room of the inn. Revilian was at another, an improbable amount of food heaped in front of him. Restimar was in one of the dingier corners, surrounded by three rather scantily-dressed women. Bern was also in a corner, but only one woman, the innkeeper's daughter, was with him. They were deep in conversation.

"I think, perhaps," said Rhoop softly, "that it would be well if we left these islands before our noble comrades became too enamoured of them."

"You speak truly," agreed Octesian, his eyes resting on Bern. "I think we should see Gumpas again tomorrow."

"Well, first," said Mavramorn thoughtfully, "I suppose we should decide what we want from him."

The others stared at him for a moment, and then nodded.

"Of course!" said Argoz. "How stupid! Of course."

It may seem odd that none of the seven lords had a clear idea of what they wanted from the Governor of the Lone Islands, but they were men of action and their diplomatic experience had been limited to compliant, unimportant mayors in Terebinthia and the Seven Isles. Gumpas, however foolish he seemed, was a much more important man, and he had been less than cooperative on their previous visit.

"In fact," said Octesian, "do we need anything of him at all?"

"Yes," said Rhoop firmly. "We need assurances that the Narnian throne continue to be acknowledged, and we should at least attempt to stop this abominable trade in slaves."

"Agreed," said Argoz. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," the others agreed.

**

The next day dawned dreary and wet. The waves crashed upon the rocky shores around the island, and lightning could be seen out over the restless sea.

The streets were deserted as the seven lords made their way up to the Governor's residence, running between shop porches and keeping their hoods over their heads. The gatekeeper, who peered out from a guardhouse just behind the gate, seemed minded to be belligerent, but Argoz grasped his sword-hilt suggestively. The man gulped, and opened the gate.

"Disgusting," shouted Octesian over the clatter of the rain. "We could have been anybody!"

"Don't complain!" Argoz replied, as they hurried into the dry entrance hall. "We would have been standing there for hours otherwise."

They removed their cloaks and handed them to the bewildered doorkeeper, and strode into the Governor's chamber.

Gumpas looked not to have moved since their last visit. There he was at the far end of the cavernous room, his eyes fixed upon the official-looking papers in front of him.

"Do they have an appointment?" he asked, without looking up.

"No, we do not," said Argoz, striding up to him, "because you have been too cowardly to agree to one."

Gumpas looked up, a bored look in his eyes.

"We have covered your business," he droned. "You may return to your lord. I have nothing further to say to you. Thank you." He returned to his papers.

"Your Sufficiency," said Mavramorn quietly, moving forward. "We must have something to take back to our king. Assurances, in your own hand, that the overlordship of Narnia continue to be acknowledged in the Lone Islands, and that the detestable slave trade be ceased, would be quite sufficient."

There was anger in the Governor's eyes this time.

"I am perfectly happy to give assurances," he said dismissively, "but as for abolishing the slave trade – out of the question! The economy _relies_ on it. We could not possibly survive without it, and the money it brings in!"

"We manage without it in Narnia," Octesian pointed out.

"Narnia is not an isolated group of islands," said Gumpas, "and has far more resources. We must use what resources we can to survive!"

"You have other resources," said Bern, speaking for the first time. "You are an important trading station, surely. You have sheep on the green slopes of Felimath. You have no need of slaves."

"I refuse to discuss this further," said Gumpas, standing. "The internal affairs of the Lone Islands are no affair of the King of Narnia, and have even less to do with seven upstart lordlings without so much as a letter of certification! I will sign your wretched assurances, if only to get rid of you, but that will be all!"

Bern opened his mouth to retort, but Mavramorn laid his hand on his shoulder. "We will take the assurances now, if you please, Your Sufficiency," he said. "And we will be on our way."

"Good," said Gumpas, reaching for a new sheet of parchment. He scrawled something across it, gave it his gubernatorial stamp, and handed it to them. "Now be off."

The lords little liked to be so peremptorily dismissed, but it was clear that they would get nothing more from the recalcitrant Gumpas. They left the Governor's residence despondently, caring less about the rain soaking their cloaks than the failure of their first and most concrete objective. It did not seem to be a propitious beginning to their voyage.

When they reached their inn, they made their way to the common room once more. Restimar was soon surrounded by simpering girls, and excused himself politely. Bern caught the eye of the innkeeper's daughter, and, as was by now customary, went to his corner to converse with her. The others sat around one of the tables and ordered tankards of ale from the surly innkeeper.

"What did we get for it?" asked Argoz. "What has he given us?"

Mavramorn opened the scroll and sighed. "Even less," he said, and showed them its contents.

_Your Majesty,_

_We regret to inform you that a letter of certification is required for any dealings with the Governor of the Lone Islands. We thank you for your interest._

_Lord Gumpas_

_Governor of the Lone Islands_

**

The day they were to depart, the weather was obliging. The white gulls wheeled blissfully over the calm harbour, and the sky was a bright, pure blue. Clouds were scarce and notably unenthusiastic. It was surely time to be gone.

Bern, however, accosted the other lords in the common-room of the tavern that morning. His face was troubled, and he spoke falteringly.

"I must confess that the prospect of further travel does not excite me," he said, avoiding their eyes. "I am minded to remain instead on these islands, and watch over them on the king's behalf."

There was a stunned silence. Then –

"But – but –" Revilian spluttered. "You can't!"

"What is behind this, Bern?" asked Mavramorn seriously, looking sharply into the other's eyes.

Bern swallowed, and his eyes flicked to the innkeeper's daughter, who was behind the counter. "N-nothing," he stammered.

"Do you take us for fools?" demanded Argoz. "You would not abandon us lightly! Speak!"

But a smile was playing on Restimar's lips. He chuckled.

"What can possibly be amusing?" snapped Argoz.

Restimar laughed again. "I think our Lord Bern has a rather attractive reason for remaining here on dreary Doorn," he said. "Very attractive, in fact."

Bern flushed deeply. The other lords appeared utterly bemused.

"What are you talking about?" Rhoop asked.

"My congratulations, Bern," said Restimar, ignoring Rhoop. "When is the date?"

"We – we haven't –" Bern faltered. "It's not – not _official_."

"Would someone care to enlighten the rest of us?" said Revilian irritably. "Confusion is not good for the digestion." His stomach gave an enormous rumble of agreement.

"The girl, you fools," said Restimar, still laughing. "Look at the girl."

The others turned, with various expressions of dawning comprehension. "You haven't," whispered Octesian. "Bern – tell me you haven't."

"It's only a private understanding," said Bern, with slightly increased confidence. "There's nothing – as I said – _official_ about it."

"You're leaving us for – for a _girl_?" demanded Rhoop in astonishment. "An _innkeeper's daughter_?"

"I think it's rather touching," smiled Mavramorn.

Rhoop gave an explosive snort.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself," said Argoz, looking stormy. "You never were one for adventure, were you, Bern? Far too _staid_ and … and _sensible._ Don't feel the need to come and see us off – we wouldn't want to tempt you from more pressing demands."

He turned and stormed out, with a brusque word to the others about waiting at the ship.

"Well, on your own head be it," said Rhoop, following Argoz.

"Next time you do something like this," said Revilian, puffing a little, "some warning would be nice. You've upset my stomach, and it will take all day to fix itself up." His voice was stern, but his face was rosy, and he winked at Bern.

"Come, then," said Restimar, linking arms with his brother. "Let us leave our unexpectedly attached friend and be on our way."

Octesian and Mavramorn each embraced Bern quickly and wordlessly, and followed their companions down to the harbour.


	5. Betrayal

**Author's Note: I know, I promised to be more prompt in the last chapter, but I have failed. Once again, apologies for the wait. The inspiration for this story seems to come in short bursts, and the only thing I have to say in my defence is that if I had forced myself to write this when the inspiration wasn't there, it would have been much worse.**

**Having said that, I am rather satisfied with this chapter, and I'm bereft at losing some of the interesting relationships I had to play with. And this time, I'll make a promise I can keep: while updates may not be frequent, I WILL finish this story if it takes me a year.  
**

**Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are owned by C.S. Lewis, not by me.**

**

* * *

**Chapter Four - Betrayal

"Land ahoy!"

The call from the crow's nest roused the six lords from their idle pursuits on deck, and they all hurried to the prow. Since they had left the Lone Islands, the mood onboard ship had been markedly subdued. Argoz had stormed about in a towering temper; Revilian had closeted himself in the parlour with only salted pork for company; and the other lords had spent their time largely in idleness and inconsequential tasks (Octesian and Mavramorn had now helped clean the scullery a total of seven times in two weeks). So land sighted meant purpose, diversion and, hopefully, adventure.

Beneath the feathery clouds on the horizon, a tall peak emerged, stark and magnificent against the featureless sea. It was a long way off, but as the only thing in sight it dominated the scenery. Argoz instructed the crew to make for the island, which involved a shift to the southeast.

For a further two days, the lords sailed towards the island, which grew larger and larger until it was positively awe-inspiring. The mountain that encompassed most of the land must have been at least three thousand feet high. Gulls circled about its sheer cliffs, and the sound of birds came from its wooded slopes.

The lords dropped anchor in a small, natural harbour and the six of them rowed ashore, landing on a sandy beach. Tall, fjord-like cliffs rose on either side of them, and a steep incline, leading to the mountain, was before them.

"Will we find savages, do you think?" asked Rhoop uneasily, glancing up at the mountain.

"Savages? Use your eyes!" exclaimed Argoz, whose mood had improved marvellously since the island had been sighted. "Do you see any smoke? Any sign of humanity on this beach?"

Mavramorn cleared his throat. "There's some smoke," he said, pointing. And indeed, there was a thin wisp twisting elegantly up towards the mountain's summit. It appeared to be coming from a valley away on their right.

"Oh," Argoz mumbled.

"May I suggest," said Rhoop, "that we split. The crew can stay here and prepare the ship; I have no doubt that it is in need of some attention. We'll leave Proteus in charge. Meanwhile, we can explore the island."

The other lords made varying noises of assent.

"Well –" began Rhoop, but he was interrupted by Octesian.

"Mavramorn and I would like to take the right side of the island," he said. "We have some experience dealing with savages, as you may recall from our northern expedition some years ago."

"Very well," said Rhoop, who seemed to have assumed Argoz's usual commanding position, as the latter continued to stare at the column of smoke. "You two take the right. Argoz and I will attempt the mountain. Restimar and Revilian can take the left side."

There being no objections to this, Restimar rowed back to the ship to obtain supplies. No one knew what might be found on this mysteriously abandoned island, and, if truth be told, they were all rather looking forward to finding out.

Argoz and Rhoop were the first to be gone, disappearing into the tangled-looking foothills of the mountain. Restimar dragged a puffing and protesting Revilian to explore the western valleys, leaving Mavramorn and Octesian alone on the beach.

"Let's go, shall we?" said Octesian, after the last complaints of Revilian had faded out of hearing. With a terse nod, Mavramorn led the way.

It was fairly easy going at first; the foothills only sloped gently and the valleys were largely composed of pretty little streams or gloomy but unthreatening gullies. Octesian and Mavramorn, however, kept their eyes fixed on the column of smoke ahead of them, and made directly for it.

At last, they came to the source of the smoke. The valley was very narrow and very deep, with sheer walls surrounding it. The smoke wafted promisingly from a cave at the base of the cliffs, and the two noticed, with some excitement, a promising glint of gold.

"Well, it seems we fall at the last hurdle," said Mavramorn, with a dubious glance at the precipitous drop before them. "Of all the cruel twists of fate …"

"Such determination, my lord Mavramorn!" said Octesian, with mock horror. "Such stoicism! You can't be suggesting that we turn around and go back!"

Mavramorn turned an amused eye on Octesian. "And what do you suggest we do, O intrepid explorer? Perhaps you have a convenient parachute in your provisions?"

Octesian grinned. "Alas, no," he said, "but I don't suggest giving up at one difficult-looking situation. Come, we should explore."

Mavramorn gave an exaggerated sigh and followed Octesian as he crashed fearlessly into the undergrowth. He thought back to the first time he had met Octesian, when they were both around fourteen years old. He had been a shy, withdrawn child, and had grown into a quiet, introverted adolescent. He had been sent to the Fortress, as it was universally known, by his concerned parents, who had been exasperated by his lack of interest in warfare. He had quickly discovered a place of his own: a hidden corner of a quiet courtyard, rarely visited, with ivy-covered walls and a carpet of soft bluebells. Mavramorn had no idea how it had escaped the vigilance of the gardeners, but it soon became his own corner of the Fortress.

One day, after a particularly humiliating practice session, in which his swordmaster had berated him loudly and mercilessly to the amusement of ten other boys, Mavramorn had hardly been able to resist running to his own quiet courtyard. But he resisted; it was important that he alone knew where it was, and he always hated to attract attention. He gave a great sigh of relief as he turned the corner, and then caught his breath. There was already someone there.

"Hello," said the boy. He was about Mavramorn's own age, but where Mavramorn was weedy and pale, this boy was brown and sturdy.

Mavramorn went to sit next to the boy, who was lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. "Hello," he said.

"I never knew this was here," said the boy. "How long have you known about it?"

"About a year," said Mavramorn, trying not to sound sulky. After all, it was _his_ courtyard.

"I'm not surprised you told no one," said the boy. "It's lovely. I hope you don't mind me being here – is it your special place?" The boy turned a shrewd eye on Mavramorn. "I'm Octesian, by the way."

"I don't mind," said Mavramorn, surprising himself. "As long as you don't tell anyone else. I'm Mavramorn."

"The boy from Beaversdam?" asked Octesian, sitting up to face the other boy. "I'm surprised we haven't already met. But I'm probably in a higher class. I can even beat Master Borasin. I'm glad to meet you." He extended his hand.

Mavramorn took it. "What were you looking at?" he asked.

"The clouds," said Octesian. "They form such beautiful shapes. I saw an eagle, a dragon, a unicorn and even a lion! Look!"

He pulled Mavramorn down so that they were lying side by side. "See?" Octesian pointed at a fluffy conglomeration of cloud directly overhead.

Mavramorn looked. "It looks more like a dog," he said, squinting. "With a collar."

"A dog? Rubbish. It's nothing like a dog. Can't you see its mane?"

"You don't think that's a collar?"

"Far too big. Don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose so. It _could_ be a lion."

They spent a very happy afternoon on their backs, pointing out shapes to each other and arguing good-naturedly about the difference between tortoises and turtles. After that, Mavramorn and Octesian had met every day in the little courtyard, and soon started seeing each other elsewhere as well. People began to notice. "They could be brothers," they said, and it was true – they quickly became inseparable. Octesian taught Mavramorn proper swordplay and Mavramorn found he was rather good at it – either that, or Octesian was a good teacher.

"I told you so!" Octesian's shout shook Mavramorn out of his memories. He pushed aside a prickly bush and found himself on a steep downward slope, at the bottom of which stood Octesian, a triumphant laugh in his face.

"What did you tell me?" asked Mavramorn as he reached him.

Octesian gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Don't play games with me, Mavramorn! Now we can go and meet these savages!" The light of adventure was shining in his eyes, and Mavramorn grinned back at him.

Together they strode into the valley, making for the swirling column. The valley was a dreary place, full of a strange haziness that they attributed to the smoke. Finally, the mouth of the cave came into sight.

They both stopped dead.

Inside the cave was a large pile of treasure – gold cups, bracelets, all manner of precious jewels. This would have been impressive enough, but their eyes were drawn to the top of the pile, where a monstrous shape curled in slumber. The smoke was issuing from its nostrils in short puffs, as it exhaled in its sleep. Its leathery wings were folded awkwardly on its back. It was a dragon.

Mavramorn seized Octesian's hand. "Now we really should go," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Without taking his eyes off the terrible vision before them, Octesian wrenched his hand out of Mavramorn's grip. "We've fought monsters before. Come on." He began to march confidently towards the cave.

"Are you mad?" hissed Mavramorn, following rather more cautiously. "This is more than just a monster – look at the size of it! Just leave it!"

But Octesian would not listen. He drew his sword with a loud ring. The beast did not stir.

"Awake, foul dragon!" shouted Octesian. "I challenge you!" Again, there was no movement from the dragon.

Abandoning caution, Mavramorn darted forward and seized Octesian's hand. "Come _on_! At least let us get the others!"

Octesian turned to face him, and Mavramorn noticed a strange light in his eyes. They seemed to be alive, brighter than they had ever been before, but somehow less human.

Octesian and Mavramorn stared at each other for a few moments, although it seemed much longer, before Octesian pulled away and charged into the cave. The dragon still did not stir.

"Perhaps it's ill," said Mavramorn, following warily.

"If so, all the better," said Octesian, in a strange voice. He raised his sword over the slumbering beast.

"_Octesian!_" Mavramorn was horrified. Dragon or no, killing an utterly defenceless opponent in cold blood was in complete transgression of the chivalric code. The king's huntsmen never even killed a sleeping boar (although the discovery of a sleeping boar, as opposed to one that was aggressive and very much awake, was rather a rare occurrence).

Octesian ignored his friend, and drove the sword down into the dragon's hide. It passed through, with surprising ease. Octesian turned a triumphant face to Mavramorn.

"There!" he exclaimed. "Now we can share the spoils. Three quarters to me, since I killed the beast."

"You didn't kill it," whispered Mavramorn, still appalled. "You _murdered_ it."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Octesian, removing his armlet and comparing it to one of the bejewelled rings in the hoard. "It was a beast. You can't murder a beast."

"I think we should go. Now." Mavramorn held out his hand.

"I am not going anywhere," said Octesian, still fingering the jewels. "Isn't this magnificent?"

"No. Octesian, please. Come!" Mavramorn reached out and grasped Octesian's hand. "Let's go."

A sharp ring of steel pierced the smoky air. Mavramorn felt the cold metal of Octesian's sword touch his throat. He stepped back, but Octesian kept his sword drawn.

"Go, then," murmured Octesian, and his eyes brightened. "Like the coward you are. You were always weak, Mavramorn. Always."

The last rays of the setting sun vanished beyond the ridge of the valley as the two men stared at each other, one on the cold floor of the cave with a blade to his throat, the other atop a mound of treasure with madness in his eyes.

"Octesian," Mavramorn began, "please –"

"Go!" shouted Octesian suddenly; his blade nicked Mavramorn's neck. "Go! Coward!"

Mavramorn put his hand to his neck and felt the warm trickle of blood. It was not a deep cut, but that wasn't what was bothering him. He stepped out of the cave, still not taking his eyes from Octesian's.

"I will wait at the mouth of the valley," he said. "Think, Octesian. Please. For the sake of our friendship."

"Go!" shrieked Octesian, and turned his back to Mavramorn. Mavramorn made his way slowly out of the valley.

He waited all night, huddled under a shuddering palm. He did not close his eyes, and kept them fixed on the mouth of the valley. Every now and then there was a sudden sound, the crack of a twig or the sleepy call of a gull, but each time Mavramorn sat up a little straighter, hoping to see Octesian come striding out of the valley with friendship and hope in his eyes. But he never came.

In the morning, Mavramorn forced himself to tackle the steep slope back to the ridge, thinking all the time of his companion. He remembered Octesian's lust for adventure, and his wonder at the beauty of the world. Beauty. Perhaps that was what had captivated him about the hoard.

At last, he reached the spot where he had suggested giving up the previous day. He remembered Octesian's playful admonitions and blinked rapidly. He looked down into the valley, to the cave they had seen the smoke rise from, before the dragon had been killed.

And he stopped. For smoke still rose from that cave, twisting and turning like steam from a kettle. Suddenly Mavramorn realised that he could still smell it on the air. And so the dreadful truth settled upon him like a cloud on a mountain. A strange noise, almost a choked sob. And then silence, as Mavramorn watched the smoke curl towards the brightening sky.

At last, he sighed. "Goodbye, Octesian," he said, and then turned from the valley and began the long trek back to the beach.


	6. Author's Note

This author's note is essentially an apology, and an acknowledgement that I am a totally faithless author who has failed to keep his promises.

I won't be finishing this any time soon. To be honest, my main reason for writing any Narnian fanfiction at all was to tell Susan's story, and my version of that is complete. This was an enjoyable story to write but my enthusiasm for Narnian fanfiction has declined (as it has for most of the authors I was following, as well, I notice). These things happen after a while, and although I considered attempting to finish this to celebrate the release of VDT, I have ultimately decided against it. It would be a chore, to be honest, since my muses have moved on to other things.

I can only apologise to my readers, in the unlikely event that any remain. If it's any consolation, there is a way in which the story as it exists can be complete – perhaps it was ultimately about Octesian and Mavramorn, and I have rarely enjoyed myself more than when I wrote their chapter.

So this is pretty much my farewell to Narnian fanfiction, about a year too late. It is conceivable, though I'd have to say unlikely, that I'll write something in another fandom at some stage, but of the many fandoms to which I subscribe only a very small number inspire me to creativity, and even less inspire anything original or worthwhile.

The last thing to say is, of course, thank you to all my reviewers for the encouragement I needed. You guys made writing all the more worthwhile. Further up and further in!

GeoffreyF


End file.
